


Dancing in the Light of a Broken Moon

by HaveHeartMyDear



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - modern distopia, Dragons, Espionage, Magic, Mentions of Sansa/Petyr, Modern technology, Multi, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3677937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaveHeartMyDear/pseuds/HaveHeartMyDear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With many claimants vying for the throne and a deadly threat looming in the North, Westeros has fallen into a dystopian state of war, poverty, and fear; Sansa Stark has survived the worst of it under the protection and tutelage of Petyr Baelish. When the Eyrie is taken in a coup, she is left in the hands of Daenerys Targaryen. The Dragon Queen wants something from her and she is no stranger to playing the pawn, but how much further can Sansa stretch herself before she becomes something unrecognisable?</p><p>{The characters, geographical locations, and any events from both series mentioned or described in this work do not belong to me and I will never claim they do. This is purely creative fun with the help of the wonderful series I consider to be my favourite fictional world ever created. Thank you, George R. R. Martin}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Not-So-Gilded Cage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, curious readers!  
> This is my very first attempt at writing fanfiction. Since I have been reading an such an unhealthy amount of it, I've decided to cross the line and contribute myself! Hurrah!  
> There are a few basic things I want to make clear about the setting/context/creative choices and here we go:
> 
> -This will absolutely be a focus piece on Sansa Stark. I love her and if you don't, perhaps I can help with that.  
> -The geography, the ages of characters, and the majority of the key events that happened within the books are going to play a big part in this creative take on the original piece. I'm going to keep it as canon as humanly possible outside from it being set in a very different time period in societal evolution.  
> -In terms of timeline, this work takes place roughly four years after ADwD/Season 6  
> -Westeros is still run by a "Monarchy" in title, but near the end of the reign of Robert Baratheon, it has developed into a dictatorship based loosely on monarchy.  
> -The technology is advanced to what we have today, but slightly different. By the common people, if they have access, it is used for the most basest needs (i.e. heating, cooling, refrigerating, vehicle transportation, very basic telephones.) The privileged portion of society, like the major and (some) minor houses, have a far more advanced scope of tech outside the basics (i.e. firearms, advanced communications, databases, surveillance equipment, and more.)  
> -Westeros did not take the path of electronic entertainments such as internet and television (therefore no social media or easily accessible media; all information is controlled by higher ups) or nuclear weaponry.  
> -Please do leave comments and I welcome constructive criticism! As this is my first, please be kind and patient. I have much to learn, I'm sure!  
> -I really super hope you like it! :)  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 _Somebody stepped inside your soul_  
_Somebody stepped inside your soul_  
_Little by little they robbed and stole_  
_Till someone else was in control_

  
Alayne had sat primly in the cold metal chair for well over an hour, wearing only her night gown. Her hands were folded neatly on the small metal table and her gaze rested softly on the identical metal chair across from her. Painted a dark shade of grey and lit by a single circular fixture on the ceiling, the room in which she sat was perfectly square as far as she could tell and would be better named a large closet. The wall in front of her showcased a tinted glass window most certainly concealing one or more observers. The only door was on the wall to her left, closest to the one way window. If she wasn't cuffed and chained to the table, Alayne could have stood and walked about with her fingers at least six inches from her sides without grazing furniture or wall. Its tiny purpose was clearly keep physical or violent outbursts to a minimum and conserve space. It must have also been sound proof because she could not hear anything from inside and in her brief time outside of the room, Alayne knew there were many people bustling about. She had not shifted even slightly since she was brought in, seated, and cuffed. Stillness was one of few skills Alayne had retained and mastered since her childhood; embroidery, dancing, and even singing were tossed aside in favour of learning the arts of observation, politics, and foreign languages.  
  
Once upon a time, there was a young girl with hair the colour of fire who would have sat here terrified, sobbing as she cried for her mother and father. This dark haired woman waited patiently, absorbing every aspect of the situation. They were night and day. Thanks to her father and mentor, she was now able to adapt and survive. Alayne wondered if Petyr was being held as well. In the very early hours of the morning, before the sun could reveal even a sliver of it's warm glow, there had been commotion on the Eyrie Estate. It was the sound of boots padding soft and swift in halls outside her door that finally roused Alayne from her slumber. Only moments later, she heard a mixture of cries of alarm and orders being barked signalling intruders had breached their home. She had slid out of the bed nimbly and made her way to the window, shifting the curtains ever so slightly to assess the situation outside. There, in the last drops of moonlight, a giant beast black as night itself, sat restlessly on top of the now charred flower beds of the Eyrie's vast garden. It was as tall as the four-story estate and wide as a barn without taking the wings into account. The reptilian head was snaking from one direction to another, taking in its surroundings. _How is it possible for such a creature to be so silent for its size?_ She had wondered, thinking that the dragon most certainly should have woken her upon it's arrival. Of course, Alayne had seen the pictures. Everyone of true importance knew the dragons existed but seeing one in the flesh had left her paralysed. A wave of wonderment had swept through her, head to toe, when she saw the shimmering silvery blonde hair of a woman, standing at its side with her hand on its scales. She knew it could be only Westeros' newest claimant for the throne, Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons. Entranced or petrified, she had barely noticed the people who had burst into her room until they had her face in the thick carpet while settling her hands behind her back with a zip-tie. The coup of the Eyrie was swift but merciful. After she was restrained and blindfolded, they handled Alayne with relative care and respect. She was guided out of the estate in silence, neither she nor her abductors spoke, and into a car that drove her a short ways away from the estate. They had brought her into a noisy base, guiding her down a rough dirt path and then up a few steps into what was most likely mobile trailer where she was placed in a small room and the blindfold was removed.

Suddenly, there was a click at the door and it opened, fluorescent light spilling in from outside. The Dragon Queen entered alone and closed the door softly behind her before sitting across from her captive. Her signature silver hair was tide back loosely in a bun at the back of her head and she wore a simple, black, long sleeved shirt, tight black pants, and knee high black riding boots. There were also two semi-automatic pistols in their individual holsters strapped to either thigh. She looked everything but regal based on what Alayne knew of queens and the few photographs Petyr had obtained from his sources in Essos. This was a woman who knew how to dress for war when the time called and looked much older for it. Unbidden, the image of Cersei, in all her drunken glory, dressed in the same gear built itself in her mind's eye and the laughter which bubbled up in her core was skilfully repressed.  
  
Alayne watched her carefully. Daenerys' casual body language read as calm and welcoming, but the dark circles under her eyes screamed exhaustion. Usurping the power of a country already amidst political unrest must drain everything. She wondered briefly what anyone could want with Petyr Baelish's illegitimate daughter to warrant a one on one interrogation with the most important figure of the revolution, but a soft spoken voice she barely recognized reminded her that with all the power and influence Daenerys possessed, _she must know who you really are_. Probably better than Alayne herself. As though reading her very thoughts, Daenerys spoke with an even balance of care and strength, “Lady Sansa Stark. Do you know who I am?”

Her original name pierced through her heart so sharply, Sansa shivered with a force undoubtedly visible to the woman across from her. She could feel cracks beginning to form in her steel outer shell she once called skin. Though Sansa was no uncommon name spoken amongst people, no one had addressed her as such in many, many years. When the heat swelling inside began to prick at her eyes she realized all she had learned as both Sansa and Alayne must come into play now. Sansa raised her chin with the pride of a lady, met the Dragon Queen's eyes with the nerve of a rebel, and replied,

“Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons. Why am I here?”

“We've been looking for you.” Daenerys replied as though it were obvious. “At your husband's bidding I sent out many of my agents across the country, north, east, south, and west –”

“My husband is dead.” Sansa replied curtly.

“Not so. Tyrion Lannister is alive and serves as a member of my council.” said Daenerys, clearly hoping it would bring comfort to Sansa. It did somewhat. Tyrion had been a good man to her and hadn't deserved her abrupt departure, leaving him to the mercy of the court for Joffery's murder.

“That marriage was annulled by the church when it was revealed to be a farce.”

“Yes, Tyrion told me of the situation the both of you were forced into. I was willing to annul it myself, but it seems the issue has been resolved. Who, may I ask, is the deceased you speak of?”

“Harold Hardygn. We would have been married three years now, but he took a fall down a flight of stairs almost a year ago and never woke from the resulting coma.” Sansa monotonously explained in an attempt to seem indifferent, but her vision blurred briefly as tears began to form. Quickly, she blinked them away. She had truly fallen in love with her Harry. It was tough going at first as many arranged marriages were known to be. He had come across as another Joffery, shallow and cruel, bitter with the thought of marrying below his station, but it had only taken a dance and clever flirting on Sansa's behalf at their engagement party to earn his interest. After the wedding, they had become nearly inseparable, much to Petyr's dismay. Sansa had been at his side in the hospital almost every minute of every day during the two weeks her husband lay unresponsive. His condition declined rapidly until there were no signs of brain activity. Never had she witnessed someone so close to her own heart ripped away from her so agonizingly slow. It had always been sudden, ripping her heart straight from her chest; nothing like the twisting and squeezing Harry's death brought upon her.

The Dragon Queen gave her a soft smile of understanding. “I lost my first husband,” she said sympathetically. “and I grieve for you as I still grieve for him.” Sansa had known as much from her lessons from Petyr and nodded in thanks. She knew from the start that her new captor experienced much of the same woes from arranged marriages for the benefit of others to ultimate betrayals to the complete and utter loss of any semblance of family. She also knew that this was a merciful woman who had freed many slaves on the continent to the East. It made Sansa want to trust the silver haired beauty. Despite Petyr's frequent warnings, she found herself fighting to believe that there was still good in people no matter how many wrongs they had been dealt.

“In case you were wondering, the people detained in the taking of the Eyrie estate are being handled with care and respect.”

“Are they cuffed and bound as I am now?” Sansa demanded as she held out her hands, palms up. They barely reached the other end of the table.  
  
“No. This is merely a precaution to avoid the worst case scenario. Some of my council tried to assure me you are a harmless little girl.” Sansa flinched at that. _Those people were very, very wrong._ Daenerys gave a small smirk knowing full well she had stepped on a nerve. “However, I was convinced by others that your time spent with Petyr Baelish could have influenced you along with the knowledge that his fealty lies with Aegon, my nephew.” Out of her pocket, she grasped a tiny silver key and leaned over the table, releasing Sansa from the cuffs. _I could grab her or either of the guns right now_ , the thought coming to her out of basic instinct but she resisted and rubbed her swore wrists instead.

“Why do you trust me now?” asked Sansa honestly.

“Because I have to.” she replied, suddenly serious.

“Why am I here? Why are you interrogating me instead of Petyr?” Sansa queried. She had never been given a straight answer when Daenerys first entered.

“This is no interrogation, Sansa. I'm sorry that I've made it seem that way. I only want to ask you a some questions seeing as you were privy to one of the most well informed men in Westeros. I would be speaking to him as well if we knew where he was, though I doubt he would have given me much considering his allegiance.”

Sansa grew cold from her core outwards and the only thing she could hear was the thumping of her heart. It seemed impossible that they didn't have Petyr if she herself had been taken. The only explanation she could reason with was that Petyr had known of the impending attack and left everyone there to the mercy of the Dragon Queen. He had abandoned her. It made no sense to Sansa. _He_ _needed_ _me. We were going to claim the North for Aegon. I was supposed to go home._ Now, tears truly threatened to spill.

“I take it this is news to you.” Daenerys said softly. “Please, rest assured I mean you no harm. The main priority of the coup had been to retrieve you, safe and sound.”  
  
“And now you mean to use me as everyone else has. When you are done, what will become of me? Shall I be a ward of crown once more?” Sansa demanded bitterly and ran a hand through her knotted brown hair, shaken from the realization that she was still no more than a pawn in this game, to be played and then tossed away when it was convenient for someone else.

“My dear girl...” Daenerys whispered as though she were speaking to a frightened, injured animal. “If you know anything of me, you know I am what this country needs. There is an evil threat looming over all of us and the future of the seven kingdoms. I intend to protect these lands and its people. You have been so terribly wronged many a time and while I will not lie to you, Sansa, it pains me to have to tell you this: I do need you, your titles, and your skills for my own ends, ends that will finally bring peace.” Sansa huffed, crossing her arms and looking away. “I mean to give you back your home, Sansa, if you will help me. The Starks will be returned to Winterfell, I swear it.”

“I am the _only_ Stark.” Sansa bit out with all the wolf in her she could muster.  
  
Daenerys laughed merrily. Her laugh was soft like the chiming of a bell, neither mocking nor cruel.

“Sweet, strong, beautiful Lady, your family lives.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I'm not sure when I'll have a new chapter (It took me a couple of days to write this one) but I'm hoping I'll be quick about it because I'm really excited about where I could take this story. Send some love for encouragement!
> 
> {Lyrics above belong to U2 from their song The Troubles.}


	2. Ghosts No More

 

_We're bound to be afraid_  
_Even if it's just for a few days_  
_Making up for all this mess_

“Liar.”

“You're brave to call me that.” Daenerys said before she allowed her smile to give way for a solemn expression. Anger boiled in Sansa's veins. _This woman has no right to play with me like this._ She thought of how her entire family had been brutally murdered by liars and traitors; Her father was executed, her two younger brothers were killed and burned at the hands of a trusted friend, her mother and brother slain at her uncle's wedding reception. She had no idea of her sister's fate, though most would bet with conviction Arya had not fared better than any of the other Starks. Jon stilled lived as far as Sansa was aware and even served as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, but his vows renounced what little familial ties they shared.  
  
“Why should I believe you?” Sansa enquired.  
  
“Because I've not lied to you yet.” Daenerys explained plainly. “Why would I start now?”

“Knowing how to tell truths does not make you incapable of lying.” Sansa retorted, her posture returned to that of steel cold propriety. “You play on my sensitivities to manipulate my feelings and treat me as an equal to make me feel comfortable. I'm done talking.

Their eyes were locked by a long and palpable silence. Sansa was very apt at reading people, who they are and what they wanted. As much as she wanted to catch Daenerys in a lie or find some sliver of contempt in her eyes, she saw nothing but respect and that shocked her. Petyr had only ever regarded her with pride or lust. It was the Dragon Queen who finally broke her gaze as she stood from her chair and, Sansa assumed, spoke to someone standing on the other side of the tinted window, “I suppose it's time I start showing. Missandei, bring me the files on Bran, Rickon, and Arya Stark.”

Only a few moments passed before there was a knock at the door. Daenerys opened it and there stood a young girl with dark skin and hair, dressed smartly in black, who looked about the same age as Arya when Sansa saw her last.. The girl, Missandei, passed three thin folders to her Queen and leaned close to whisper something very quietly. Daenerys gave her a nod and Missandei bowed deeply from the waist before taking her leave. Daenerys closed the door without taking her eyes from the files in her hand and sat back down at the table. She opened the first file and slid it around until Sansa could look at it properly. She was faced with an old picture of a young, smiling Arya. Instantly, Sansa recognized it as a cropped close up from the Stark's most recent family photo. Information on her sister was listed beside the picture from her birth date to her basic physical description.

“If you turn to the second page, you'll see a small collection of more recent photos.” Daenerys explained and Sansa obliged. All pictures were either grainy, black and white still frames of surveillance camera footage or shots taken by someone at a distance, hidden from her sister's view. The one coloured photograph of Arya showed her standing in a shipyard next to a white motorcycle, seeming to be making a deal with a strange man. Underneath the photo, “ _Saltpans, Riverlands_ ” was written to mark the location. The next was of Arya walking away from a different shipyard, looking over her shoulder directly at the camera, and seemed to be pulling at her hood to cover herself. This one was labelled as being taken in Braavos. The last was also marked to be in Braavos. Arya was walking into a large building with giant doors, one black and one white, again looking over her shoulder. Sansa felt her eyes burn with tears, ready to spill down her cheeks, and raised her fingers to her lips to stifle a sob. Her sister was alive. The thought warmed her whole body, but Sansa found it did not shock her. _Arya is a fighter through and through._ _If any of us could survive this world on their own it would be Arya._ Sansa was sorry for doubting her sister. Daenerys continued speaking.

“Unfortunately, the most recent photograph is four years old, but there is no indication she has left Braavos nor any corner reports of deceased matching her description. That last picture there is Arya entering the House of Black and White, the Braavosi temple of the many faced God...”

“But?” Sansa said, urging Daenerys to continue her thought.

“But many people go there for assisted suicide and their bodies don't always make it to a coroner.” She said solemnly. Sansa shook her head and explained, “Not Arya. She wouldn't and I know it.”

“I thought so. A few of my agents who knew her told me the same.” Sansa puzzled briefly over that statement. _Who are these people claiming to know the Starks so well?_

“The alternative reason for entering that place, aside from prayer, is not much better.” Daenerys continued. “Some go there for assisted murder. The temple is run by a guild of assassins known as the Faceless Men. I think we're safe to assume she has either contracted them to kill someone or joined them to do the killing herself.” Sansa nodded. She didn't doubt for a single heartbeat Arya would seek them out. While Sansa was angry for the loss and abuse she had experienced throughout the years, her rage was outweighed mostly by crippling sadness and fear. Arya would certainly be much angrier and would never have allowed time for tears to fall. Her sister was never known for crying even in her youngest years. Instead, she lashed out by throwing anything within reach, yelling, or later on, pulling awful pranks out of vengeance. Sansa was often the target, although admittedly she had deserved it more than once.

“Here. Open this one.” Daenerys offered, sliding the next folder over. She took one look at the label on the front and felt a single tear roll down her left cheek.

“Bran...” Sansa whispered so softly it could have been mistaken for a sigh. The last time she had seen her second youngest brother, he was in a coma being treated by Winterfell's resident doctor, Maester Luwin, after his fall from one of the tallest wings of the estate. It was known he would never walk again, but when word came that he had woken and was much the same as before, she thought he could survive anything. In a way, the news of her brothers' deaths at the hand of Theon, their adopted brother, had been the worst of the betrayals. She had loved Theon greatly once. He and Robb would chase her and Jeyne about the grounds in games of tag or hide-and-seek, urge the girls to climb the trees with them, and then sometimes told her bedtime stories which were often meant to scare, but she secretly enjoyed them all the same. Now she only felt bitter hatred towards him. To hear that he had murdered her young, innocent brothers in cold blood had broken Sansa deeply. Slowly, she opened Bran's file. Seeing his cheerful face, the photo taken from the same family picture as Arya's, made her smile through the tears. Again, tidbits of information sat next to the photo. She turned the page in hopes of seeing more recent pictures as proof of Bran's survival, but met instead a large, horrifying picture of a young boy's body burned beyond recognition laying on a coroner's table. Sansa slammed the file shut violently and the urge to vomit was repressed solely by the fact that there was nothing inside of her to dispense. She glared at Daenerys with great hurt in her eyes.

“It's not him Sansa. I told you that your family is alive. Why would I show you that if it were truly your brother?” She explained firmly. “There's an autopsy report attached to the picture. They looked into Brandon Stark's dental records and determined that they don't match up with the dead boy on that table.” Avoiding the dead boy's picture, Sansa went through Bran's file again, hoping for more proof her brother lived, but came up with nothing. She gave Daenerys a questioning look. “We don't know where he is exactly, just the direction he was going. A wildling woman, Osha, who claims to have served at Winterfell tells an account of her escaping with the two boys. She says he went beyond the Wall, Sansa, with your servant Hodor and two children of house Reed.”

This explanation only served to baffle Sansa even more. _What reason would Bran have to cross the wall? He is a child in the company of other children and a man who might as well be one considering his mental condition._ _They will die out there._ Daenerys shook her head as if responding to Sansa's confusion. _She doesn't know why either._ “What about Rickon? Did Bran not take him too?” Sansa asked desperately, hoping the youngest of her siblings was safe somewhere south of the wall. Daenerys shook her head again, but this time a smile played upon her lips. She opened the last file for Sansa and showed her a picture of a dirty, but happy looking young boy with curly, reddish-brown hair. This was very much Rickon and she could tell the picture had been taken recently. Rickon would be almost ten years old now and this boy looked every bit her grownup little brother. Tears began to flow more freely and Sansa smiled broadly, though the strangest pain throbbed in her chest. It was like her heart, which had been torn out of her chest piece by piece, was being put back together again. She slowly traced little Rickon's features with her index finger over and over again, never looking away from the picture. “Where...where is he?” She barely managed to ask through strained breathes.

“He is on his way here in the company of my most trusted agents outside my own personal guard.” said the Dragon Queen. “We found him amongst the Northern tribes on the island of Skagos, when my army and I settled there to create our headquarters.”

“When?” Sansa asked as she met Daenerys' eyes, swallowing hard.

“Later in the evening” was her answer. “We had them wait in a small town quite a few hours away until we were able to secure the Eyrie.” Daenerys regarded her carefully before she stood and said, “I know it has been a very strenuous morning for you and you must be starving. The base should be ready to move to the Eyrie any moment now. Come, we'll eat there.” Sansa nodded slowly in agreement. She could barely feel her legs when she stood from the chair. Whether it was from the lack of use or her current emotional state, she wasn't sure, but still they moved willingly to follow Daenerys out the door.

The base camp was still abuzz when Sansa was led out of the trailer, but most of it had been packed up and readied to move. There were many trailers identical to the one she had been held in as well as large all-terrain vehicles that pulled the trailers behind them. She and Daenerys had been joined by Missandei and two men who followed behind closely as they crossed the camp over to a large black SUV. One man was young and olive-skinned with barely a hair to be seen except the brown fuzz, cut close to his scalp as though it had been shaved down to nothing only a couple weeks ago. He wore a black outfit similar to that of the Dragon Queen, though he had a black windbreaker and his pants were looser, bunching up where they met his tall combat boots. His face carried no expression and kept his gaze forward as though Sansa were not even there. When she shivered from the cold wind blowing through her simple night gown, the other man removed his jacket, placed it about her shoulders, and gave her a warm smile. He was older for certain but devilishly handsome. His skin was dark, tanned from many days in the sun, and he had unnaturally bright red hair run through with streaks of black on his head, eyebrows, moustache, and beard. He must have dyed everything recently as he smelled distinctly of the chemicals. _He's sporting the colours of the Targaryen banner_ , Sansa realized. _His declaration of fealty for all the world to see._

“Daario Naharis, my Lady, at your service” He said as an introduction as they continued to walk, bowing his head respectfully and then motioning to the first man. “That one there is called Grey Worm. Quite the serious fellow, though you ought not fear him.”

“I don't fear him, sir.” Sansa replied. “None of you scare me.” He laughed hard as though she had made some terribly funny joke and she giggled lightly with him despite herself. Her tears had abated with the freshness of the cool air in her lungs and left her feeling slightly drunk off the ebbing emotions. Daario picked up his pace momentarily to open the door of the SUV for the women. Daenerys climbed in first, then Sansa, and then Missandei. Grey Worm sat in the front, behind the wheel, as Daario closed the back door and raced around to the front passenger seat. As the the vehicle was started and they began a slow crawl towards the road, Sansa felt a sudden uneasiness bordering on nausea at the thought of returning to the Eyrie. As far as she could tell, she was in better hands than she had been, but there was still so much uncertainty. Daenerys still hadn't told her what she wanted from her. Sansa was astute, well versed in politics, and had adapted easily to the life of secret intelligence, borderline espionage. Perhaps she would only be needed for sharing information gathered on the people of Westeros to make Daenerys' campaign easier. She knew where Petyr held the most important secrets of the Seven Kingdoms and the people of the Eyrie would be much more at ease with Sansa continuing the Ladyship over the estate, given to her by her late husband. Yes, she could be a very valuable asset rather than a simple pawn.

However, something very deep down in Sansa's gut whispered,  
S _illy girl, has it ever been that easy?_   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I've been terribly nervous about continuing this work. This is the first time I've shared my own written work with an audience larger than six people and I freaked out a little bit when I saw this story had one hundred hits already. So far so good, right?  
> I know these first two chapters have been very exposition heavy, but trust me, I'm just trying to set everything up nicely for the main plot points.   
> I also decided that it was silly to have a page dedicated to basic notes, so I shortened it up and combined it with the first chapter for ease of navigation for those who may possibly follow the story as the chapters are updated.
> 
> {Lyrics at the top belong to Snow Patrol. Song: Run}
> 
> Next time:  
> Sansa finds out exactly why the Dragon Queen wants her in her service and there is more than one long-awaited reunion.


	3. Home is Where the Beasts Live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the tardy posting. I ran into some troubles with the overall plot and became furious with myself for not planning things out thoroughly before writing the first two chapters. This chapter took forever because I kept writing and rewriting the multiple sections. I was not happy with most of it for quite a while, but I think I've finally hit the mark now that I've almost doubled the size compared to the other chapters (I'll probably change my mind again once I have a few days to think more on it.)
> 
> Also I lied partially about Sansa's reunions. It was supposed to happen, but it would be another week if I actually wrote this chapter up to where I originally wanted it to end because I had so many more ideas.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

_Lost in skies of powdered gold_  
_Caught in clouds of silver ropes_  
_Showered by the empty hopes_  
_As I tumble down, falling fast to the ground_

Sansa looked down at the charred grounds, once called gardens, from her bedroom window. It wasn't difficult to visualize the great, black beast, Drogon, standing where his large feet – if they could be called that – had made deep imprints in the ground. The sunlight that managed to filter through a thick grey overcast of clouds gave her a better view of all the damage that had been done and she felt her stomach twist when she saw the godswood, which sat just behind the gardens, had also been taken to flame by the dragon. Sansa hadn't frequented the site much during her time at the Eyrie though she missed it greatly; The woman she was supposed to be, Alayne, was not northern and had grown up under the care of septas of the Faith. However, when she became close with Harry, they would escape to the wood for respite from the responsibilities of Lord and Lady of the Vale of Arryn.

They were chasing each other flirtatiously around the trees one day when Sansa, as Alayne, mentioned in passing that she thought godswoods were supposed to have a heart tree and that she had always wanted to see a weirwood. The very next week, Harry had her blindfolded and led out to the godswood to show her the weirwood sapling he had imported from the North, interred in a special fashion with great care to help it grow in the less than desirable soil of the Eyrie. Of course, Harry never knew her as anyone but Alayne and wouldn't have had any idea of what a heart tree would mean to her, so when she began to cry, he wrapped her up in his arms, called her a silly woman for getting so emotional over such a small gesture, and cheekily asked if he had finally gotten her pregnant. In that moment, Sansa had thought for the thousandth time to throw her alias to the wind and confess all to her husband, but a deep fear that her dishonesty up until that point could cause unknown consequences shoved the desire back down. Telling lies had become a strength born out of necessity, but confessing to them did not come as easy. Afterwards, she had visited the growing weirwood everyday, with or without Harry. When he died, Sansa spent hours at a time, each day for a month, sobbing in front of the tiny tree, begging the Gods to tell her why they cursed her family and continued to torment her still, if they were there at all. After the last day of no response, she never returned to the godswood again. She wondered now if Harry's gift had been reduced to lifeless, blackened bark as the other greenery had. It made her nauseous to continue thinking about it, so she turned away from the window in favour of the white, antique vanity in the left hand corner of her grandiose room to focus on preparing herself for the meeting.  
  
Standing in front of the mirror, Sansa's shaking hands fluttered about adjusting every bit of her outfit from the waist band of her calf length, navy blue pencil skirt to the simple golden bird charm hanging from a gold chain just below the high neckline of her white, lace, sleeveless shirt. _I've lived with a Queen and almost became one myself. Why am I so nervous now?_ When she had been told to shower and dress for a lunch with Daenerys and her small council, Sansa wondered what exactly this meeting would entail, doubting small talk would be on the agenda. She had dined with very important people regularly since she was a young child, but this would most certainly be the most important of them all. Sansa was holding her long, dark brown hair up tight behind her head to decide whether or not she should tie it up or let the straightened locks rest down her back when there was a knock at her door. The familiar voice of Mya Stone called out, “Al- ....Lady Stark?” Sansa walked quickly over to the door, took a deep breath, and opened it for her friend, ready to face an assault of questions. Standing right behind the stone-faced Mya was Myranda Royce, arms crossed tightly against her buxom breasts and seething with an anger Sansa had never seen in her before. “May we come in, _milady_?” Randa asked sarcastically and then strode in without waiting for a reply. She sat heavily on Sansa's still unmade king sized, canopied bed, looking at her expectantly. “Well?” Sansa wrung her hands nervously as Mya closed the bedroom door and sat beside Randa. She looked at the floor and tried to sort out a way to tell her closest friends that she had been lying to them all this time. How much could she tell them? Petyr had so many wheels turning behind everyone’s backs she didn't know how much she could say without revealing how deep the secrets truly ran. She knew that letting them in on everything would not do any one good. _But they deserve an explanation._ “I know what this must look like to you. It was only to keep me safe, I swear it. Very powerful people wanted my head for a murder I didn't commit!” Sansa tried to explain desperately.

“You could've trusted _us_!” Randa exclaimed.  
“Telling you would have only put you in as much danger as Petyr and myself.” Sansa replied, kneeling at the girls' feet. “We all became best friends so quickly, remember? It was like having a real family again. You _know_ what happened to the Starks. How could I bare to lose you as well?” Mya eyed her carefully. Her serious demeanour was very off-putting for Sansa; It was rare to catch Mya without her signature mirthful smile. “Did Harry know?” She asked quietly.

“Of course he didn't.” Sansa answered, rolling her eyes. “He would have gone off and died fighting the Boltons to claim Winterfell for me instead of falling down those Seven-damned stairs in the middle of the night.” It had been Petyr who made her promise to keep her secret from the ever spontaneous, unpredictable Harry until the time was right. With the amount of men and power the Boltons possessed, especially with the North under martial law, they just didn't have the means to take Winterfell right away. She only had to wait until enough supporters were gathered behind Aegon VI and the Vale of Arryn's affairs were stable in the turning of power from the tragically dead Robert Arryn to Harry. Just as they seemed to be rounding that corner, Harry had been ripped away from her. Randa huffed in displeasure, clearly unsatisfied or non-believing of Sansa's answers. She could feel the tips of her ears beginning to burn with frustration towards her friends, but mostly towards herself for ending up in this situation.“I may have lied to you about who I was and where I came from, but our friendship was always true! It still is...to me at least.”

“What about this Targaryen mess? Were you in on this too? Seems mighty convenient you roll up to the Estate in a fancy SUV with the Mad King's get herself.” Randa yelled and pushed past Sansa roughly to cross the room, motioning wildly with her hands. “That white haired _bitch_ had us plucked from our beds, tied us up, stuffed us in the dinning hall with almost every servant in this place – which is insulting in it's own right considering I'm a fucking lord's daughter too –, questions us about where Littlefinger fucked off to, and then has audacity to have us call you to lunch like we owe her something.” Suddenly, Sansa snapped. “How much money could I win, Randa, if I bet on you not even having been in your own bed when they took the place? Are you not paying attention? That white haired _bitch_ could have had us all murdered _without_ the courtesy of waking us first, but she didn't. She could have had her dragons burn this whole place to the ground with everyone inside, but she _didn't_. I was detained just like you except I was cuffed and chained to a table in a closet of an interrogation room. Don't you _dare_ think I asked for this.” She spat venomously, making dagger sharp eye contact with each of them respectively throughout her vicious fit. Mya and Randa looked at each other and then back at Sansa in astonishment. She returned to the vanity mirror, gave her freshly washed hair another brush-thru to set the stray pieces in place, and then spoke in a tone that reminded her all too well of the terrifyingly calm but firm scoldings she and her siblings earned from their mother, “You do owe her. You owe her your life. You owe her your respect. She is a Queen whether you like it or not, so you had better start addressing her as such. You should have started with telling me I had been called for by the way. Now, I'm late. Where am I to meet her?”

“In the conference room, my lady.” Mya said, taut and obedient as though she had been given an order. “Don't.” Sansa said, unnecessarily sharp. She took a deep breath to regain her composure “Please, don't call me that. My titles don't change the fact that you are my closest friends. Call me Sansa.” She smiled at them softly, hoping their friendship would not tarnished by recent events or her nasty outburst. Mya rose, her demeanour significantly more relaxed. “Sansa's right.” She announced to Randa with her beautiful, mischievous smile set back in its proper place. “If I had let every one of your _indiscretions_ get in the way, Randa, we wouldn't have even become friends in the first place. I really liked Alayne. I know you did too and I'd rather have the real one than none at all. Right? Randa?” Sansa anxiously watched Randa kick at the fluffy white floor of carpet as she contemplated her verdict. “Sansa Stark....” Randa muttered. “That's going to take some getting used to.” Sansa's smile widened until her cheeks burned and she wrapped an arm around each girl, forcing them into a group hug reluctantly received on Randa's part. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” She whispered and kissed their cheeks. “I need you two now more than ever. I still don't know what Daenerys has planned for us, but I promise I'll tell you everything as soon I can.”

“Alright, alright, enough of this mushy bull. You're late to meet the _Queen_.” Randa reminded her and pulled out of the hug. “Wipe your face. You're leaking.” Sansa laughed, utterly relieved, as she lightly rubbed the tears away from under her eyes and followed her friends out the door.

***

When Sansa walked into the large, circular conference room, she saw everyone had already been seated around the equally circular glass top conference table. On a brighter, sunnier day, the room would have been bathed in beautiful natural light offered by the grand sunroof which, protruding upwards semi-spherically, took up the majority of the ceiling. This was not that day however. Though there was still plenty of light to see clearly, the overcast sky threatening rain made the room feel dreary and washed out. In contrast, Daenerys smiled warmly at Sansa and stood from her place in the largest of the white rolling office chairs. She wore a full length, sleeveless emerald dress and her hair flowed free save for the strands that were braided away from her face and around the crown of her head. Holding her hand out, she motioned for Sansa to sit at the empty seat to her right. Sansa took her place obediently and only then looked around at the bodies filling the chairs. There was Missandei sitting at the end opposite from Daenerys and the two men, Grey Worm and Daario sat on either side of her. Seated to Daenerys' left was Barristan Selmy, former Lord Commander of Robert Baratheon's Kingsguard. She received welcoming smiles from all except Grey Worm who only gave her a nod of acknowledgement. _This might not be as bad as I thought_. However, something seemed out of place and she asked, “Where is Tyrion, your grace? You spoke of him serving on your small council.”

“He is still on the island of Skagos with my husband, managing the greater portion of my army and preparing for our journey to the Wall.” Daenerys explained as she motioned to a server to bring in the food now that Sansa had arrived. “Lord Tyrion has spoken very highly of you, Lady Sansa, and recommended I make this venture personally.” She wondered what exactly Tyrion could have said about her to convince a Queen to put herself on the front line of a coup for her. _Even after I abandoned him, he's still looking to support me._ More of the serving staff entered then, bringing in one cart to transport the meal and a second to bring in the drinks. On each plate was a grilled chicken breast accompanied by a hearty pile of brown rice topped off with chunks of carrot and broccoli. Everyone was given a glass of water and their choice of white or red wine. Sansa opted for the white as per usual because she preferred the sweetness and it never stained her teeth like the red surely would. As everyone began their meal, she noticed Ser Barristan watching with saddened look of nostalgia. When they made eye-contact, he made his thoughts audible, “You have grown quite a bit since we first met in Kings Landing; I barely recognized you. How old are you now?”

“I've recently turned eighteen, Ser.” Sansa replied quietly as she cut into her chicken. “I was only eleven years old when I came to live in the capitol and just reached my twelfth birthday when you were...when you left. But, it is good to see you again. The years have been kind to you, Ser Barristan. You look almost exactly as you did in Kings Landing.” He smiled appreciatively at that and replied graciously, “Thank you for saying so, my lady.” It didn't surprise her that he saw such a difference in her; So many things had changed with her physically, intellectually, and emotionally. Sometimes, when she caught her reflection, even she wasn't sure who she was looking at. Barristan on the other hand hardly looked a year older than when she saw him last, still quite fit despite his years. She supposed that as one got older, they visually aged slower especially when they are physically active. A quietness settled over the table while everyone settled into their meal. Sansa hadn't realized how hungry she was until the chicken met her tongue and she found it incredibly difficult to eat her food with civility when all she really wanted was to do was shove it down two mouthfuls in at a time. “You must have many questions for us, Sansa.” Daenerys spoke up casually. “Anything you want to know, I'm sure we can answer.” Sansa thought for a brief moment and took a sip of her wine before asking, “How did you mange to take the Eyrie so suddenly?”

“We planted a spy on the estate, of course. He was here, what? Three months now?” Daario answered with his mouth full. “Set him up as a serving boy, had him mark out all security and defences, disable the alarm systems when our forces were in place, and then we slipped in. Easy peasy.” This did surprise her quite a bit. Petyr had always been so thorough when hiring his staff. “It did not go so well for him.” Grey Worm cut in. Sansa gave him a curious look so he continued, “Petyr found him, right after the security system had been cut. Found the boy with a bullet in his head at the exit of a secret tunnel built into the estate.”

 _So that was how Petyr escaped the coup._ Sansa still didn't understand why Petyr had left her behind. He was forever gushing over her and she knew she was his greatest asset even if he never told her. Bile rose in her throat as she remembered how she had let him in after Harry's death, how close they had become. To this day, Sansa couldn't tell if she genuinely needed his comfort or if she had simply been afraid of being alone. No one knew of the late night visits she would make to his rooms after waking from the nightmares brought on by her loss. The innocent embraces she originally sought turned into the kisses she once spurned, Sansa grew to welcome them and everything that came after despite the knots in her stomach because she was so horribly, terribly, painfully lonely. She never loved Petyr, of that she was certain,  but the sting of betrayal pierced deeply.

A deep drink of her wine drowned the thoughts temporarily and she turned to another question she couldn't quite fit an answer to. “Why did you set yourself up in the North? Why go to the Wall? Would it not be easier to simply take King's Landing first, to stake your claim, especially with Aegon already in possession of Storm's End?” Daenerys' council nodded approvingly at the question, though clearly they already knew the answer and looked to their Queen to give her response. “Absolutely. However, I do not want to make myself a Queen. I want to _become_ the Queen. To do that, I am going to prove my intentions to reign over the people as a protector rather than a usurper.” She replied easily. Each minute in Daenerys' presence made Sansa acutely aware of the potential not only for the Queen, but for the kingdom under her rule. “Eventually, I will have to take this country by force with Aegon standing as the ultimate opposition, but there are more pressing matters. If I do not stop the oncoming threat from the North, there will be no kingdom for anyone to rule.” Sansa's brows furrowed and she looked around the room; Everyone wore grave expressions. _This is the second time she's_ _mentioned trouble in the North. They can't seriously be this intimidated by the Wildlings..._ “What threat?” She asked and placed her fork down on her plate.

Daenerys studied her for a moment before giving Missandei a curt nod. The girl reached down beside her chair and rustled through a bag for a few moments before pulling out a file folder like the ones she had given Daenerys back at the camp. She handed it to Grey Worm who in turn handed it to Barristan and then to the Dragon Queen. Daenerys opened the file and slid it slowly in front of Sansa. She was presented with pictures of snowy landscapes and Castle Black. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary other than a single strange oval shaped orb of light as though the camera's flash was reflecting off some shiny surface. In the first few pictures there was only one orb, but as Sansa flipped through the rest, they grew in numbers. The very last was almost entirely covered by the strange lights, melding together, except for one corner where soldiers of the Night's Watch stood in stances that told her they were undoubtedly readying for battle against the lights.

“We don't know what they are. They cannot be captured on film of any kind. They're even less visible through infrared vision.” Daenerys explained, “We've only heard descriptions through correspondence with the men of the Wall and Stannis Baratheon. Apparently, they are the dead who've risen from their grave. Their hair and skin are white as snow and their eyes glow blue in the most unnatural way. The only way to kill them is with either fire or a dragonglass bullet to the heart, otherwise they will not fall.” Sansa stared at the pictures in disbelief, yet the physical description tugged at her memories like she knew exactly what these things could be.Her governess, Old Nan, as the children called her affectionately, would often tell stories of creatures beyond the wall. _The Others! That's what she called them.._ She remembered the tale of the Others who lurked during the Long Night when the sun would not been seen for years, even decades, at a time until the Last Hero reached out to the Children of the Forest and used their magic to banish them to the North. This was the story Sansa always feared the most and she would beg Nan to never tell it again. “There hasn't been a sighting in nearly six months now, but the Night's Watch cannot be certain they've seen the last of these creatures. That is why I must be in the North. I will take my men and my dragons and end this once and for all.” That sounded fairly simple to Sansa. With three dragons and one of the largest armies in Westeros armed with dragonglass weapons, it seemed that taking care of the Others would hardly cause the Queen to break a sweat. Again, she looked at the council sitting around the table to gauge their expressions.

At this point no one was eating and it was then the feeling in her gut from earlier that morning came back telling her there was a catch to all of this. Sansa asked another question, the one she needed answered more than anything at this point, “Why do you need _me_?” The room was deadly silent at that point. It seemed no one wanted to answer because none of them would meet her eyes. When she felt Daenerys' hand cover hers on the table, utter dread swept through her head to toe so strongly it took a few seconds before she could look at the Dragon Queen. “First of all, we would like to learn as much as we can from you. You know all of Petyr Baelish's secrets and therefore the secrets of the Seven Kingdoms. You know the way of these places and people, from the Riverlands to the North, unlike anyone else sitting at this table. As I said earlier this morning, I promise that I will get you home, but we need to make use of your family name and position as well as your gathered intelligence.” She began to explain slowly until Sansa couldn't stand all this beating around the bush. “ _Why_ do you need me?” She demanded, pulling her hand away from the Queen.

“I can't bring my full army or all three of my dragons onto the main land without risking an unnecessary war against the people in the North. I was only permitted a small number of men and one dragon to retrieve you from the Eyrie.”

“Permitted by _who_?”

“Lord Roose Bolton, Warden of the North. We signed a contract allowing me to take my men to the Wall and in turn –” Daenerys began but Sansa cut her off.

“You struck a deal with _Roose Bolton_?” She asked, her voice cracking with a blend of fury and shock. “He is a _traitor_! He murdered my mother and my brother in cold blood! You cannot trust him!”

“We don't trust him, Sansa, but we need the North on our side.”

“The people of the North hate the Boltons. Just because you have their Lord on your side doesn't mean they will fight for you when you call for them especially when they already hate your family for the horrors my grandfather and uncle went through.” Sansa spat back. “The North remembers. Always.”

“They do not need to love me or the Boltons. They only need to love you for this to work.”

“For _what_ to work?”

Daenerys' face grew deeply serious with determination, indicating she would no longer be questioned once the answer was given. In a moment that felt like a thousand years, Sansa could not find it in her to draw breath. The few seconds of an airless eternity ended when the Dragon Queen answered with finality,  
“Your marriage to Ramsay Bolton.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TA-DAAA!  
> Definitely scooped up this whole "getting Sansa back to Winterfell" plot from the television series when I first saw the season 5 preview trailers. It will most definitely be a whole lot different from what D&D probably have planned, but I barely know exactly what will happen aside from major plot points (the rest, I'm letting the characters write for me.)  
> Also, I've realized I made a terrible mistake in setting it so many years after ADwD but I am going to try to fix it by filling in the gap in the next chapter (i.e Stannis' attempt to claim Winterfell, why Dany took so long to get to Westeros, etc.) Uuuggghhhh.
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> Please do leave comments or message me if you have constructive criticism! I'm here to develop my writing so input is craved!
> 
> {Lyrics from the song "Crystals" by Of Monsters and Men}


	4. Story on Hold

Hello, readers!  
  
Unfortunately I have decided to put this story on hold. There are many issues I'm having with it because I didn't think everything through or map out a proper story board when I first started. I feel I've restricted myself by relying heavily on the original series' plot and the creative juices just aren't flowing. Also there's some choices I made with certain characters that I just do not like at all. I will come back to it eventually and rewrite the first three chapters once I have everything sorted and of course once my schedule calms down. In the mean time, I have been inspired by an anime series to create an interesting mash-up of said series and A Song of Ice and Fire. I think everyone will really enjoy it (especially those who are familiar with both series because the character similarities and how easily you can put AoSIaF characters into that context is ridiculously eerie.) It will be significantly different from this story because it will involve multiple POVs (so yay perhaps I'll get more readers!) Also, my schedule for the next week is going to be insane so it will be a couple weeks before I get that first chapter posted, but hopefully it will flow easily like I feel it can.  
So sorry to those who became even slightly invested in this particular story. It will come back, I promise!

Thanks so much for the support!


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